


(Love) the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket

by dangerouslyconfused



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerouslyconfused/pseuds/dangerouslyconfused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tumblr prompt for bighound-little bird: "One day Sansa is cleaning Sandor’s apartment for him as a surprise. She then comes across his stack of old porn magazines."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Love) the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momolady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momolady/gifts).



> Written for bighound-littlebird ‘s tumblr prompt: One day Sansa is cleaning Sandor’s apartment for him as a surprise. She then comes across his stack of old porn magazines.
> 
> I haven’t written fan fiction in years and definitely not anything smutty. Hopefully I didn’t do too badly. Concrit is encouraged; I can’t get better if I don’t know where to begin. And please excuse my overuse of commas. I can’t help it, I must comma. Title taken from The Bloodhound Gang’s “The Bad Touch” because I couldn’t think of a title and it was playing.
> 
> Mild Trigger Warning for passing mention of violence against women.
> 
> Enjoy!

(Love) the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket

 

She slowly crept up the stairs to the second floor landing, gently placing one foot after the other. Around her she could hear the city sounds drifting from the perpetually open door of the apartment buildings lobby but she focused on the noises coming from the other tenants. As she reached the top of the stairs, Mr. Tanger’s raucous guffaws caught her attention briefly; still, he never left his apartment so she didn’t care about his presence. Instead she tiptoed her way across the faded wooden floor, ears trained towards the door directly in front of her. 2A the placard read is black letters, a sharp contrast the stark white of the door. A faint smile ghosted her lips as she recalled for hundredth time who lived there. Sandor, she thought. My boyfriend.

Though they had been dating for nearly four months, Sansa never grew tired of calling him Her Boyfriend, something which Sandor outwardly protested even as the burnt corner of his lip twitched into a smile. He never said how much he secretly loved her possessive nature towards him but she knew it all the same; the warmth pooling in his usually hard eyes when she introduced him to her friends, the firm squeeze of his hand in hers when she gave the eye to another girl staring at him, the way he always came undone as she whispered Mine into his skin when they made love. And she loved his possessive traits as well, even though she had made him tone them down a bit. She wasn’t about to wear sweatpants at the beach just because he didn’t like other guys looking at her.

Now she stood before his door, palms damp and eyes shifting nervously towards the knob. She knew he should be at work, that the apartment should be empty but her mind conjured images of her unlocking the door only to find him standing on the side. Her plans would be ruined if that happened and she couldn’t bear the thought now that she had only just summoned the courage to put her plan into action. 

Shoving the butterflies that had erupted in her stomach down, Sansa once more began inching her way to her destination. With a practiced gesture, she reached into her purse and found her keychain, hurriedly pulling it free before peering down to find the right key. After quickly thumbing the keys to her apartment, her Mazda, her gym locker, she located the key to his apartment. As she moved to unlock the door, she remembered when Sandor had presented it to her, shoulders tense as if braced for rejection. Her heart clenched at the thought. Years of torment, first by his brother and then by his Lannister employers, had made him unsure of himself and his worth. Throughout the years that they had known each other, it had only been within the last year that he had started coming out of self-imposed shell. But even though he was far better than he had been when they first met, there were always occasions that could make him falter and giving her the keys to his place had been one of them. 

With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and was relieved to find that she was alone. Her tensions released, she casually strode through the entrance after twisting the keys from the door, setting her purse on the side table before shutting the door firmly behind her. She had complete access to his apartment with him gone but she had a lot of work to do and not a long time to do it in.

Sandor Clegane was not a messy man by any means. There was never rotting food or garbage laying around, unlike her brothers who appeared to actually like living in a cesspool. No, he was neat in a manly sort of way, taking the time to prevent filth from accumulating but not quite enough time to be organized. His bills were placed in a basket that he went over once a month instead of in a folder and his clothes tended to be on his bedroom floor more often that in his closet, but Sansa never felt grossed out when she spent time there. However, his lack of organization had resulted in a few cases of missing items and the last time it happened, Sansa got an idea.

He had been tearing through his living room when she had arrived, carrying a shopping bag filled with treats for their weekly movie night. She watched him in amusement as he dug through the couch cushions and then dropped to his knees to search under the coffee table. Only after a sweatshirt had nearly hit her in the face did she decide to make her presence known.

“Looking for something?” she smirked, arms folded across her chest. His head whipped around and acknowledged her briefly before turning again to resume his quest.

“I can’t find the fucking movie,” she heard faintly as he ducked his head under the flap of the couch. She saw one of his long arms stretch beneath the couch and move back and forth in an attempt to sweep the floor there for the missing DVD. Apparently he didn’t have any luck, as he soon stopped and grumbled, “Fuck.”

Stifling a giggle with the back of her hand, her eyes followed his massive frame as he removed himself from the floor and stood to his full height. His hands came up and folded on the crown of head before he finally looked at her, truly this time. When he saw her impish grin behind her fingers, he scowled. “Something funny, little bird?”

Quickly, she shook her head, not removing her hand. She couldn’t risk an outburst of laughter, not just yet. His frustration grew more at that though. “I’ve been looking for that fucking Le Miserable bullshit for an hour! I didn’t even want to see it, girl. You’re the one who insisted and now that I’m busting my ass to find it, you’re gonna fucking laugh at me? Is that it?”

Unable to contain herself any longer, Sansa unleashed her amusement on her furious boyfriend. Her melodic laugh rang through the small living room and she nearly doubled over, spasms shaking her core. Slowly she pulled herself together after several minutes of giggling, straightening her posture and facing Sandor once more. Her eyes still crinkled with mirth, even as his narrowed. 

“What?” 

Sansa bit her lip to keep herself in check before carefully answering him. “Sandor, you didn’t put the movie in the living room, remember? You put it in your bedroom because we were going to watch it in there.”

Her words may have been gentle, but they only seemed to incite him further. “Wow, little bird, I hadn’t thought of that,” he said in mocking tone. Sansa only roller her eyes, knowing exactly where he was going. “Except that I did look in my room and it’s not there! I’m not an idiot, Sansa.”

“Did you look in your bedside table?” she deadpanned, meeting his heated gaze with an icy one of her own.

At her words, though, the fury dropped from his eyes and she saw the faintest glimmer of embarrassment replace it. Sheepishly, he rounded the coffee table and moved towards the hallway and his bedroom at the end of it. Over her shoulder, she heard him rummage around for a few seconds before he stilled. Only a few moments went by before she heard him shuffling back and she gave him a sideways glance. She saw the DVD in his hands, as she knew she would, and couldn’t refrain from gifting him with a smug smile. He brought his other hand up to point in her direction before firmly growling, “Shut up” and walking past her to pick up the mess he created in his living room. It was then, as she helped him clean up, that she realized how much he needed her.

Blinking back to the present, Sansa walked around the apartment mentally listing all the tasks that she would need to do. A cursory glance to the digital clock on the microwave informed her that she only had three hours to work before Sandor returned home, so she set off. 

Her plan was simple enough; clean and organize the apartment to show Sandor how much better his life would be if she were around more permanently. They practically lived together as it was; she was rarely at the apartment shared with her friends Randa and Mya and half of his dresser was devoted to her clothes. She even had a box of tampons in the bathroom cupboard. The only thing left was for Sandor to officially ask her to move in and he seemed to be taking his time doing so, in her opinion. 

An hour ticked by as she went through her tasks. She arranged his kitchen cabinets and drawers, giving each section its own type of dishware or cutlery. She scrubbed the surfaces, the counters, floors, and tables of the open concept living room/kitchen space and vacuumed the carpet of the hallway. She even alphabetized his movie collection, although stopped herself from getting near his gaming systems. He loved his Xbox and accidently messing any part of it would destroy all hopes of living with him.

She had just finished cleaning the bathroom when the alarm she set on her phone went off. Sansa ran to her purse and grabbed her cell phone, turning the alarm off. Panic set in as she realized that she had less than an hour to clean his bedroom and that was the worst of it. She mentally kicked herself for letting the time get away from her. Her original plan had been to be finished cleaning by the time the alarm sounded, so she could spend the remaining time cooking Sandor dinner. But unless she wanted him to come home to a half clean house, she needed to improvise.

Jolting herself out of her thoughts, she quickly moved to the freezer and grabbed a frozen pizza. Maybe it wasn’t a home cooked meal in the way her mother would think, but both she and Sandor loved Tombstone pepperoni pizza and Sansa knew he wouldn’t complain about it. After turning on the oven and timer and placing the pan of frozen pizza into the oven, she hurried to the bedroom to finish her work.

Oh no, I really shouldn’t have left this until last she thought when she glanced around Sandor’s bedroom. When she had been there last, only two nights ago, it had been a bit unkempt but not too badly. Today though, she would have thought a hurricane had hit. His bed was completely unmade, the covers spilling halfway on the floor. And the floor… Last she knew it was made from a soft grey carpet but it had apparently been replaced with dirty laundry.

She sighed deeply, not knowing where to start. Laundry, I suppose. Another look about the room had her wondering what she was signing up for, if she could handle living with him. He’s grumpy and snappish and he rarely wants to go anywhere. I would probably spent all my time cleaning up after him, if this is any indication. Just as her misgivings started to overwhelm her, she caught sight of the picture frame she gotten him on their one month anniversary. Inside the delicate silver frame was a photo of them together, his arms wrapped securely around her middle, his chin resting on her shoulder. They were laughing, about what she couldn’t even remember, but the image was enough to remind her of the reason she wanted to live with him in the first place. I love him.

Determination renewed, she went around the room picking up his clothing and putting it in his laundry basket. At this point she didn’t have the time to tell the clean from the dirty, so everything went into the basket. With the floor uncovered, the final bits of apprehension left Sansa’s body and she started humming as she worked. 

Soon she had made the bed, dusted his dresser and bedside table and even reorganized his sock drawer better (he was always complaining that he couldn’t find matching socks). She set her sights then on the last item on her list; his closet.  
Her nerves returned once more as she slide the closet door open. She felt as though she were invading his privacy, exploring the place where he kept the possessions he didn’t want anyone to see. She told herself that she wouldn’t touch anything but clothing, wouldn’t open any boxes, and that made her feel better. He would show her everything one day, she didn’t need to push it. Besides she didn’t have much time left until he got home from work and with that thought, she began straightening out the clothing that he had clumsily placed on twisted wire hangers. Just as her mind wandered to getting him better hangers, her movement was stilted when a jacket of his in the back of his closet caught on something. She gripped the jacket harder, fabric bunching in her slender fingers and gave it a yank. There was a mere second after her yank where time slowed and she realized with dread that one of the arms of the jacket had somehow gotten stuck underneath a stack of boxes on the shelf above her. Sooner than she could react, though, the force of her tug upended the delicate balance that Sandor had created with the stack and they all came crashing down. Somehow she managed to close her eyes and fling her arms over her head before they hit and only her arms felt the slight thud from the heavy boxes.

She stood rooted to the spot, unwilling to open her eyes and learn of the chaos she produced. As the minutes ticked by though, she knew she had to face the music and at least attempt to clean her mess before Sandor came home. I wanted to show him how much I could improve his life but all I did was show him that he’s better off without me around, she thought sadly. Her movements were lethargic with anguish as she sat on the bed and began to sort through the clutter until she was halted by the contents of one of the boxes.

In a plain white packaging box at the far corner of the pile, Sansa could see glossy pages shimmer from the opened top. Carefully she reached over the mess and gripped the edge of the box, hauling it back with her onto the bed. She glanced at the doorway, half expecting to see Sandor standing there but it was empty; after all, she didn’t hear the door and it wasn’t yet time.

From the door her eyes dropped back to the contents of the box. Staring back at her was a woman, buxom and completely naked, spread eagle on a pool table. Sansa gasped and nearly threw the box back to the floor in shock. She turned her head away from the woman in shame. If her mother could see her now…

Curiously began to nip at her mind and though she tried to fight it, she found her gaze being pulled back. A graceful hand reached into the box and pulled a magazine out, eyes scanning the pages.

 

He’d had the day from hell. After quitting his cushy security job with Lannister Corp, he found work at Stark Construction but only after his Little Bird convinced her father to hire him. At first he hated having her use her influence to help him but she quickly reminded him of everything he’d done for her. “You saved my life, Sandor. The least that I can do is help you find a place where you will be respected. You deserve it, you always have.” 

While he’d yelled at her and told her she was a fool if she believed that she owed him anything (what kind of a man sits back and allows someone to hit a woman), he gradually accepted her help but just in this. And only so far as she could recommend him; he wouldn’t let her beg on his behalf. So she’d set up a meeting between himself and her father but Sandor took it from there, eventually winning Ned Stark’s approval (as an employee though, he still wasn’t happy about Sandor as a suitor for his daughter). In the year that he’d been employed by Ned Stark, he’d worked hard and risen from doing grunt work to being the foreman of one of the new housing developments that Stark Construction was responsible for.

Most days were good. He liked his job, the respect he earned from the Starks themselves and the men he had working under him. The best part about it was the work itself. Even though he was in charge of an entire project and had over 100 guys working for him (not counting the independent contractors who came in for septic jobs and the like), he still had the freedom to jump in and help out several times a day. Not today though.

His morning started with Robb Stark showing up unannounced at the job site. His presence had all the guys strung up, torn between wanting to impress the boss and trying not to gain too much attention. Robb was Sansa’s older brother and he liked the guy, but his coming around the site was never a good thing. So when Robb took him aside and informed him of new ordinances the town passed that severely altered their progress, he was agitated but not surprised. After Robb left, Sandor spent the better part of the morning going over the old plans and trying to reconcile them with the new ordinances. Every time he thought he found a solution, a new problem sprung up and by lunch his irritation had boiled into rage. His guys had tried to get some answers, having heard rumors all throughout the morning, but they only served to piss him off more. By the end of the day, everyone did their best to avoid him and he left the development at quitting time without a single farewell.

The drive home was silent too, the radio clicked off only minutes in. Music usually calmed him but this time did nothing to quiet his thoughts. His head hurt by the time he pulled into the parking lot adjacent to his apartment building. Sandor cut the engine and sat back against his seat, left hand running over his face as he tried to control his breathing. He was home now, time to relax and let go. At least that was what Sansa always said after she’d listen to him bitch about work, nodding sympathetically and rubbing her soft hands through his hair. He smiled at the thought of her, his beautiful Little Bird, so perfect and wonderful. Her name could make his anger fade, the darkness in his soul retreat from the light that was simply her. Usually. Today it only reminded him of her brother and her father and that fucking company and those fucking seven times damned ordinances.

Roughly he shoved his way out of his company provided truck (there was no way he was bringing his sleek black Camaro, Stranger, to a construction site) and slammed the door shut, forgetting his lunch pail inside. Through the haze of his rage, he failed to notice the shiny white Mazda in a nearby parking spot or its LtleBrd license plate. His thoughts swam violently as he moved into the building and up the stairs, automatically readying his key when he was at his door. He jammed the key in the lock and twisted, only to realize that the key met no resistance. The door was unlocked.

The muscles in his neck and shoulders tensed. Catching a robber in the act would be a great way to release the frustration that had been building in him all day but if they had a gun… Then again, who the fuck would rob him? And in the afternoon, with children playing on the street outside? Pushing all thoughts but what could be inside from his mind, Sandor drew out his key and gently pushed the door open. If there were someone stealing his shit, he didn’t want them get whiff of him just yet. When the door was a few inches open, he peered around the edge of it, checking out the scene. 

The living room was empty and somehow cleaner than how he’d left it. Burglars don’t tidy up, he mused. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure, he had a pretty good idea of who had left his front door open.

His Little Bird.

His suspicions were confirmed soon enough by the sight of her purse on the end table and doubled by the smell of pizza wafting through the air. Fuck yeah, Tombstone.

However as quickly as the savory aroma filled his nostrils, a sharp undercurrent of burning cheese overthrew it. Three long strides and he was at the oven, pulling it open with one hand and reaching for the oven mitt with the other. The pizza was burnt, badly so, the cheese a dark brown and the pepperoni appearing as small black circles. The timer on the oven blinked 0:00 in green light but made no sound; after 20 minutes the timers alarm shut itself off. 

Sandor dropped the pan on the stovetop and shut the oven off, turning his mind to Sansa. Perhaps she could occasionally be forgetful, but not when it came to cooking. Bile rose to the back of his throat as his mind played all of the scenarios of why she would leave the oven cooking for 20 extra minutes, each one worse than the last.

“Sansa!” he yelled, rushing from the kitchen to the hall. At the end of space, he saw his bedroom door open, light pouring through. From his vantage point, he could only see part of his bed and his stomach dropped. To the right, boxes lay scattered on the floor, their contents spilling haphazardly on the ground. On the bed itself, a slim foot rested bare. Sansa…

Sandor sprang into action, running down the short hall and into the bedroom. His eyes immediately searched for the intruder, arms taut in anticipation. He would kill any man who hurt his Sansa, he swore that to her once and he meant it. Just as he was about to call out to the coward, he looked down at the bed and his mouth dropped.

Spread out on the comforter, naked and glistening with a light coat of sweat, was Sansa Stark. Her head was thrown back, exposing her pale throat to him as her fiery hair formed a halo on the pillow. Her eyes were screwed shut in pleasure but her plump red lips were parted, frantically gasping for breath. His eyes trailed down her chest and further still, down towards the junction of her thighs. He swallowed heavily to see her, legs wide open as she worked her delicate hand into her core, rolling into every small thrust. She was completely absorbed in her desperate pursuit of bliss, so much that she hadn’t heard him. Oblivious to his hungry state, she plunged her fingers deeper into her center, moaning before drawing them out and running them over her slippery nub. Her hips bucked uncontrollably and Sandor could tell she was close.

He loved watching her fall apart. He loved to touch her and taste her and feel her around him but there was something about seeing her bring about her own release that he couldn’t resist. At first she’d been shy about it, not understanding why he wanted to watch her when he could do it himself. Only after he took hold of his length and stroked himself to completion did she learn how aroused one could become just by watching.

But his cock was almost painfully hard against his jeans at the sight of her and this time he wasn’t content to watch. He adjusted himself in his pants, easing the pressure, before he raised his hand to door and rapped his knuckles against it with two loud knocks. 

Abruptly her hand froze, her fingers still deep inside her dripping sex. Her eyes were open now, brilliant blue and shocked, staring at him from across the room. He grinned at her expression, frustration and lust and something else, something he hadn’t seen since their first times together.

Shame.

Confused, he stepped closer, making his way towards her prone form. Her eyes followed his movements as she tried but failed to steady her erratic breathing. When he finally found his way to the edge of the bed and sat, she flinched.

“Little Bird?” he whispered, concerned. His hand moved to her cheek, brushing his fingers along her freckles before lifting a wayward hair out of her face. Her body seemed to melt towards him, hips shifting slightly. Her eyes, though, flickered towards her other hand, the one that was stretched out across the bed covers. The glance was quick, probably unintentional, but it was enough to arouse his attention. Slowly Sandor drew his eyes from her face to her arm, all the way up. Grasped in her fingers he could make out only the borders of the page but he knew it all the same.

Lust burned through him. His Little Bird, innocent and lovely, was lying on his bed frigging herself to one of his old porno mags. He didn’t even realize he still had them, having packed them away years ago. The Internet was better at taking care of those needs, a much broader selection. This was better than any porn he’d ever seen though.

He locked his grey eyes with her blue ones and raised an eyebrow. A blush rose to her cheeks and traveled lower and she averted her eyes. She was embarrassed and ashamed, no doubt believing him to be disgusted by her behavior. She’d been raised to regard anything sexual as wanton and unwanted.

She should know him better by now.

A smirk ghosted his lips as he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Did I interrupt something, Little Bird?” He could feel her tremble underneath him even as she struggled to find her words. One of his hands trailed down her body, lightly brushing her nipples before finding her arm and following it down. Her arm jerked up and she whimpered at the loss of contact but tried to bring it away from her opening nonetheless. He stopped her with a gentle tug of his own hand and moved his fingers to align with hers.

A shuddering breath slipped from her and he captured it with his mouth, a tender press of his lips to hers before he leaned back slightly to watch her. Her blue eyes were darkened with longing, pulling a low groan from his throat. She arched her chest in turn, a silent plea.

Her hand engulfed by his, he moved them until their fingers both brushed her slick center. He let their hands move over her flesh, coating them in her desire before he removed his. “Well then, don’t let me stop you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hopefully Sansa doesn't seem to be too OOC. Truthfully, I envisioned her arousal as a product of thinking about Sandor jerking off to the mags rather than her simply getting turned on by them, but I left it vague on purpose.


End file.
